You came with your sword sharpened on scripture,
thinking hate could wear a halo.
But this poem was never yours to fracture.
You mistook silence for consent,
and missed how the page winced beneath your slur.
So let me be clear:
There is no redemption in vilifying softness.
No gospel where cruelty quotes chapter and verse like a spell.
The divine I know walks barefoot through metaphor,
does not flinch at queerness,
and never signs their name with a clenched fist.
You preach fire. But I’ve seen better flames in the hands
of a poet who weeps when they write.
.
.
The modern poetic equivalent
The modern poetic equivalent to the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World is your poems, this one particularly towering over the poetic landscapeof this site like the Great Lighthouse of Alexandria. The Divine walking barefoot through metaphor and not flinching from queerness is particularly apt and beautiful, a phrase that generates a cosmic power that produces the by-products of light and warmth.
Starward-Led [in Chrismation, Januarius]
It is a privilege to hear
It is a privilege to hear this but still not sure how many voices would agree.
The only consolation is that though most if not all these wonders have no physical remains left,
just like poems, they live on in hearts and souls and a select few in curricula around the world.
Thank you, most humbly, S74r5p4r3d
RBK
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver